


Interlude: Antidote

by TenkeyLess



Series: Interludes in the First [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: After Rak'tika, Emet steals a kiss, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, ambiguous WoL, take your medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 09:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/pseuds/TenkeyLess
Summary: The Warrior of Light returns to the Pendants after vanquishing the Rak'tika Lightwarden, lightly poisoned for their trouble. Emet-Selch intrudes.





	Interlude: Antidote

Frowning with distaste, you ignore the medicinal flask pointedly placed at the edge of your dining table. All you really needed was a bath and some dinner, your room in the Pendants helpfully able to accomplish both. Yes, just some much needed rest and relaxation. Your friends had sent you away for the night for that purpose, after all. The slight trembling in your limbs would pass on its own, this wasn't the first time you'd been poisoned (and certainly wouldn't be the last)... Plus the varietal you were experiencing from the Rak'tika ruins was nowhere near the most potent you'd endured. Head shaking to dismiss the memories of _blurred room, blurring vision, cold, Ishgard was always cold, the floor reaching up to meet you and-_

A sudden void portal has you scowling at the Ascian sauntering into your rooms. His arms spread wide in habitual theatrical gesture, he smiles at your consternation.

"Why hero, is that any sort of civilized greeting for me? After all the help I've _graciously_ delivered to you and yours?" You frown and he sighs at the sight, shoulders slumping. "I had hoped we were beyond this trite mistrust."

"It would help your case if you refrained from entering my rooms when I might have an expectation of privacy, Emet-Selch."

"Ah! But when else might I deliver on our _earlier promise_." His lips curve upwards in a sly grin. You start as you realize he'd meant his words, then, when he offered you succor in the forest. At the time, accepting close physical contact with the Ascian seemed the height of unwise actions, and you'd dismissed the thought of _finally_ getting rid of the knots you were accumulating in various muscles. Your back twinges painfully as though to remind you of that bath you were contemplating before this interruption. While you mull his previous offer over, now _truly_ considering it, he takes the opportunity to catalog your rooms. A suite at the apex of the Pendants, it is lavishly decorated by the Crystarium's standards. Fresh sandwiches await your attention on the table along with the no doubt _vile_ medicinal concoction. You'd barely returned for a bell before being sent away, sent here-- sent _home_\-- by your friends.

Emet-Selch pauses his inspection, hand lightly resting on the medicinal flask. Gold eyes lock with yours, his gaze unexpectedly _intent_.

"What's this? Are you _ill_, hero?"

"Nothing worth mentioning,” you grimace. "Just some lingering effects from the forest."

A flicker of what might be _concern_ passes across his face before it's schooled back into habitual disdain.

"I'll be _fine_. Deliver on that massage and I'll be even better." Tone kept light, you run your hand through your hair in frustration at everyone's mother hen act. The tremble in your hand does not go unnoticed by the keen eyed Ascian, and he uncorks the medical flask. His expressive eyebrow lifts as he takes a drink of the potion and you groan in sympathy, "Vile isn't it-" _When did he get so close-_

He strides up to you and suddenly there is a hand on your hip, the other holding your nape secure as his lips crash into yours. Your mouth opens in an instinctual gasp and he presses his advantage, tongue prying you open, and foreign liquid spills into your mouth. Only a small dribble escapes down your chin, eyes wide in surprise as you choke down the potion. His own are closed, determined, giving a false impression of calm for all his tongue presses within, coaxing your compliance. For the moment the only sounds in your room are your own, muffled gulps echoing obscenely against the walls. And then, it is done. The potion consumed, his lips leave yours as you heave for breath. His hands yet remain, however, the one on your nape rubbing a soothing circle with his fingertips. Eyes glimmering with mischief, he mocks your flushed state.

"Tsk tsk hero, one might be forgiven thinking you _preferred_ this method to take your medicine." His hand on your hip squeezes, drawing a further flush to your face. Hands pushing against his chest, you attempt to disengage, ducking your head to hide your reddened cheeks. For all the good that does, it feels like pushing against a wall. He chuckles, drawing you close to whisper, "Now, unless my memory fails me, I believe I promised you a massage?"

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAA
> 
> This is my first finished fic in ages-many thanks to the Joker+Thief discord for their infectious enthusiasm <3  
Additional thanks to [Starships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starships/pseuds/Starships) for the beta!


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